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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952025">when you wipe away my tears, I can’t help falling in love with you all over again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice'>queenhomeslice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Promptober 2020 [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Nightmares, Promptober 2020, promptio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 21:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The attraction broiling under Prompto's skin comes to a nasty head.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Promptober 2020 [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when you wipe away my tears, I can’t help falling in love with you all over again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. </p><p>_______</p><p>Promptober Day 11: Crying</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Prompto’s not sure how anyone expected him to sleep like this. After the first week or so, all pretense and concept of personal space had faded away. They’d very quickly gone from “here I’ll move my feet and sleep on the edge of the sleeping bag” to Noctis spooning him from behind and drooling between his shoulder blades. Which is fine...kinda. Well. It’s not so much Noct’s cuddling him that bothers Prompto—they’ve been sharing a bed since high school sleepovers—it's the other two. The more he’s around Ignis, the softer the strait-laced adviser seems, but Prompto still tries to be on his best behavior. He just wants to be liked. But the care and attention Ignis gives Noctis slowly bleeds over to Prompto—handing him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, devising special battle strategies with him, standing between him and any danger, cooking his favorite meals a few times a week—it's more attention than Prompto feels like he deserves. So when Noct conks out first and Ignis slides in next to him, Prompto spreads out his sleeping bag and blankets and tries to quell his fluttering heart as Ignis throws one of those long, toned arms over his stomach and murmurs goodnight in that damn accent.  </p><p>Gladiolus, on the other hand, is who <em>really </em>gets to Prompto. Ignis makes him feel warm and safe and protected, but Gladio...Gladio makes Prompto wake up with an awkward boner nearly every morning. Gladio, the people person who can get a girl’s--or guy’s--phone number without even trying. Gladio, who’s so easy and relaxed and confident; who never trips over his own two feet; who’s tall and handsome, with those broad shoulders, tanned skin, badass tattoo, killer smile, and probably the biggest dick Prompto’s ever seen.  </p><p>Oh, yeah. Prompto’s seen it—soft, of course, but damn. It looks about as long as his forearm and nearly as big in girth. It’s what Prompto visualizes whenever they’re in a hotel and he’s in the shower—Prompto thinks about his hands and mouth on it, thinks about Gladio pushing it inside of him and absolutely destroying him. What would Gladio sound like? Would he be rough and primal, as Prompto imagines—or would he be oddly gentle, fucking Prompto nice and slow and whispering soft praises into his ear as Prompto bounced up and down on top of those watermelon-crushing thighs? </p><p>Ugh. It’s not fair for people like Noctis and Ignis to exist for starters, but throw Gladio into the mix, and Prompto’s libido has zero chance. Like none. <em>Prompto </em>certainly doesn’t have a chance—Gladio's nice, Gladio likes to poke fun and tease him, but then again so does everyone, so Prompto doesn’t take it personally. He tries so hard not to fuck up in battle so that Gladio will think he’s not the most incompetent man on the planet. He desperately wants Gladio to like him. </p><p> </p><p>With all of this rolling around in Prompto’s head almost ninety percent of the time, it’s no surprise that his subconscious wakes him up in the middle of the night with a strange sort of nightmare. Prompto’s seen more daemons in the last couple of weeks than he ever realized existed, but this dream had him trying and failing desperately to save Gladio from a particularly nasty red giant, even more brutal and oozing more Starscourge than the ones in real life. Prompto sits up in a cold sweat, heart clamoring to escape his body, dream-Gladio’s screams of death and agony still ringing in his ears. Prompto feels the hot tears on his cheeks before he even realizes that he’s crying—he gasps for air and looks around the tent, worried that he’s woken his companions. Noctis and Ignis are wrapped up in each other, sleeping soundly; Gladio’s on his left, between him and the zipped-up tent flap, breathing deeply, sculpted pecs rising and falling with a quiet rhythm.  </p><p>Prompto sniffs hard and cards his hand through his hair, reaches behind him for the plain white pajama shirt he’d kicked off earlier in the night, and carefully climbs over Gladio, making sure to zip the tent back up after him.  </p><p> </p><p>He sits in the nearest camping chair and plants his elbows on his knees, sobbing into his hands. It’s not just the nightmare that’s getting to him, though that’s part of it; Prompto’s crying for what he can’t have, for failing to just see Gladio as a good friend and letting his stupid dumb heart get lost in feelings that can never be reciprocated. He blubbers into his sweaty palms and wills himself to stop, but the tears just keep coming—he chokes. He’s such an idiot. Gladio doesn’t deserve a dumb commoner pining after him like a lovesick puppy. The thought only makes Prompto cry harder. It would be easier if Gladio was super mean to him, honestly, but his fierce protective nature and good-natured banter only makes Prompto fall harder. Prompto’s been falling for years—he's wondering when he’s gonna hit rock bottom and shatter like glass.  </p><p> </p><p>“Prompto?” </p><p>Ah, fuck—as if the Astrals weren’t already hell-bent on torturing him. Prompto doesn’t look up as he hears Gladio shuffle across the haven. He feels Gladio’s body heat as the shield kneels in front of him, placing those impossibly large hands on his bare knees. Prompto can’t help the goosebumps—but he’s already embarrassed as hell for crying, what’s one more thing for the peak of masculine perfection to taunt him about? Prompto shakes his head, sniffles hard again, digs his hands more and more into his eyes until he’s seeing spots behind his watery eyelids.  </p><p>“Blondie, hey, hey, look at me,” Gladio coos, voice deep and rough with sleep.  </p><p>Prompto shakes his head again. He can’t face Gladio--not right now.  </p><p>“Prom,” Gladio says again, squeezing his knee. “I’m here, it’s all right. You’re safe.”  </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Prompto cries himself out, and finally dares to raise his head. He must look so awful—snot dripping from his nose, eyes and cheeks all red and wet, hair sticking up everywhere, lips chapped and raw from biting in an attempt to stop his runaway emotions.  </p><p>Gladio, of course, looks ethereal, even in the dead of night. He’s backlit by the dying campfire, and his handsome face is crestfallen, honey-amber eyes wide with concern. “Hey,” he says again, reaching out to thumb under Prompto’s eye, wiping the tears away into the long side layers of his hair. “I’m here, it’s okay. It’s okay.” </p><p>Prompto can’t help but lean his head into Gladio’s hand—it's warm and rough, and everything that Prompto wants. He threatens to choke out more weak sobs but manages to hold himself back—for now. “I...Gladio, I...” </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” </p><p><em> Not really, </em>Prompto thinks. But Gladio’s looking at him with such affection that Prompto can’t help himself. Is this it? Is this where his fall ends?  Prompto  clears his throat and tries for words. “I just—had a nightmare—it was a red giant, and it got you, and I—I couldn’t protect you, Gladio, I just—hearing your screams—I was so <em>helpless</em>—I can’t--what if that actually happens and I can’t stop it, I couldn’t--” <em>Couldn’t live without you</em>, his mind finishes. Prompto bites his lip and looks away, wiping his own face.  </p><p>“It ain’t gonna happen,” Gladio assures him. “And even if it did, you <em>are </em>strong enough to stop it. Fuck, Prom, you and those guns—you're amazing, actually,” Gladio admits. “I know I give you shit most days, but that’s only ‘cause I wanna see you do better. You were already a natural, and learning as we go—you've been so quick to adapt. Watching you and Iggy tag-team, it’s incredible. And you and Noct...you two work just as well as he and I do.” Gladio pauses, clearing his throat. There’s a waver in his voice, and it makes Prompto turn forward again. “I’m real fuckin’ proud of you.”  </p><p>A compliment like that, coming from Gladio, who’s been trained to fight since he could walk? It means the world to Prompto, and doesn’t help his feelings whatsoever. He bites his lip again and nods, trying to believe the shield.  </p><p>“Thanks,” he whispers, gulping, trying to steady his breathing. It’s not easy when Gladio’s hand is still on the side of his jaw, the other one thumbing soft circles into his knee. Prompto closes his eyes again and sighs. “Uh,” he tries. “Thanks, Gladio, sorry that I woke you...” </p><p>“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll fall back asleep in a jiffy.” He grins, and Prompto slices his heart open on his perfect, white teeth. “That all, or is there something more you wanna talk about? Do you need me to stay out here with you?” </p><p>Prompto blushes and shakes his head. “No, I uh, I’ll be fine, sorry, I just...I’m fine.” </p><p>Gladio shoots him a pointed look. “You don’t sound fine. C’mon. It wasn’t the nightmare that made you cry so much, was it? What else is wrong? Maybe I can help.” </p><p>Prompto shakes his head again. What’s he supposed to do now? <em>Sure, big guy, you can help...just fuck me into next week, that’s all. </em>Prompto laughs at the thought.  </p><p> </p><p>“...Come again, Blondie?” </p><p> </p><p><em>Oh.</em>  </p><p> </p><p>Oh, shitting hell.  </p><p> </p><p>Prompto’s mouth falls open. There is no way he just...did he?  </p><p> </p><p>“Prompto...?” </p><p>“Oh, <em>fuck</em>.” Prompto slaps his hand over his mouth and sinks back into the camping chair, letting his big stupid head loll backwards and out of Gladio’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, <em>fuck</em>.” </p><p>“Wanna run that by me again?” </p><p>Prompto can tell by Gladio’s tone that he’s teasing him. Goddammit. “Nope!” he squeaks. “Musta been the wind!” </p><p>Gladio snorts. “Some wind, then,” he says, continuing to let his fingers dance over Prompto’s knee. “Sounded kinda horny, if you ask me.” </p><p>“That’s so weird!” says Prompto, wishing he’d just have a heart attack and die already. His voice comes out two octaves higher than normal. “But I’m fine Gladio! Thanks for coming out here! You can go back to sleep now!” </p><p>“Nah-ah.” Gladio shakes his head and grins, squeezing Prompto’s knee, making the smaller man jump with a whimper. “C’mon, eyes on me. I know I ain’t dreamin’.” </p><p>“Must be some weird status effect,” Prompto offers.  </p><p>“Prompto,” says Gladio with finality. </p><p>Prompto sighs. Maybe Gladio will kill him and make it quick. He deserves that, at least. A swift, merciful death. He sits up and glances at Gladio through half-lidded eyes. “Don’t,” he says, quietly. “Just forget it, all right? It’s fine.” </p><p>“You can’t just tell me you want me to fuck you and act like everything’s normal.” </p><p>“It’s not like I meant it, man! I’m really distressed right now, cut a guy some slack.”  </p><p>“Oh, so you <em>don’t </em>want me to fuck you into next week?” </p><p>“Yes! I mean, no! I mean—I didn’t mean to actually say it out loud, is what I mean! Fuck!” Prompto puts his head in his hands again.  </p><p>Gladio laughs. “But you were thinkin’ it.” </p><p>“Been thinkin’ it since I was sixteen, bro,” Prompto mumbles.  </p><p>Gladio’s close enough to hear the confession. It knocks the wind from his lungs, and he feels heat simultaneously rise to his cheeks—<em> and </em>travel south. “Prom,” he whispers. “Look at me, please.” </p><p>Prompto huffs and decides to face his fate like a man. He chances a glance at his friend.  </p><p>“Hi,” Gladio offers. “There’s that pretty face.” </p><p>“Wha...huh?” </p><p>“Oh, my bad. I thought we were confessing things. Did I read this wrong?” </p><p>“I, uh...” Prompto’s overwhelmed brain sputters to a halt. “You’re...you’re calling me pretty?” </p><p>Gladio nods, cheeks growing even more pink.  </p><p>Prompto’s mesmerized. He didn’t even think Gladio could <em>get </em>embarrassed. It’s so <em>cute</em>. “I, um...you think I’m pretty.” </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>Prompto exhales long and slow. “Okay,” he says, not quite sure what to make of it. “I, um...” </p><p>“Tell me <em>why </em>the nightmare upset you so much.” </p><p>“Because I’m in love with you and I couldn’t live without you if you died.” The words escape Prompto’s brain before he has a chance to filter them. He squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shit.” </p><p>“That was <em>definitely </em>not the wind,” Gladio says, voice hitching. “Prompto, how could you miss it? I’m head over heels for you.”  </p><p>Prompto’s hand drops from his face and he just stares at Gladio as though the other man has grown an extra head. “You...I...me?” </p><p>Gladio nods. “Yeah,” he says, moving to take both of Prompto’s hands in his own. “I love you, Prompto.” </p><p>Prompto gasps and his mouth falls open—Gladio uses that opportunity to surge forward and kiss away all of his insecurities.  </p><p> </p><p><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"> <span class="NormalTextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0">The next morning, </span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"><span class="SpellingError SCXW214354864 BCX0">Gladio</span> </span><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0">suggests they take on some more bounties for </span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"><span class="SpellingError SCXW214354864 BCX0">Takka</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0">, so that they can stay somewhere with an actual bed. He shoots </span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"><span class="SpellingError SCXW214354864 BCX0">Prompto</span> </span><span class="TextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW214354864 BCX0">a wink behind Ignis’ back, making the blond shiver. Thank the gods for nightmares—just this once. </span> </span> </p>
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